Wide Eyes and White Teeth
by Cazurine
Summary: Arthur is your average post-university student in London, and to his displeasure, he is somehow cajoled into chaperoning several giggling tween girls to an Alfred Jones concert. Alfred Jones is a pop superstar hailing from America, who Arthur finds to be quite repulsive, and does most certainly not find attractive. Not one bit. USUK, with sprinkles of other parings
1. Chapter 1

"Oh Arthur dear, thank you. You really are the most wonderful brother in law, even if you and Allistor don't get along. Alison will be thrilled to hear you can take them, and on such short notice too." With that final sentiment, Melanie hung up.

Arthur groaned.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

His niece, a bouncy thirteen year-old named Alison, had called him two days ago, practically sobbing over the line. Arthur hadn't been too alarmed, as this happened whenever a boy asked her out or her friends started fighting, and he was more of mentor for the teen anyway. However, this call had proved to be of greater importance. After a rather cringe-worthy five minutes of incoherent, vaguely animal-like squeals, she settled down enough to explain that she had won VIP tickets to an upcoming concert at Madison Square Garden. After this and a few more strangled sounds, she hung up.

Arthur had thought nothing of the call until Alison's mother, Melanie, began to ring him repeatedly the next day. Honestly, didn't his idiot brother's family have any more modern ways to contact him? Of course he didn't mind calls, but if his phone rang one more time when he was working, he was going to throw it in the bin and call it a day. Finally, on Melanie's fourth attempt, Arthur was available. Though Melanie was usually a levelheaded woman, Alison's excitement was known to be infectious, and Melanie did indeed sound adrenalized as she talked. She explained to Arthur that Alison had entered the 'Prove your Allegiance' contest, and somehow won for the London stop of the tour. Arthur didn't know what the hell the contest was, or what the "prove your allegiance" was supposed to imply, but he felt obliged to be proud of his niece for winning. Unfortunately, this obligation wound up with him agreeing to chaperone Alison and her giggly friends during the concert, which actually wouldn't have been a problem, had it not been that specific concert. Usually, Arthur could hang back and relax, but the concert wasn't just some band, with a comfortable amount of fans. No, Arthur was now required to attend an Alfred Jones concert.

It seemed to Arthur that there was not a 12-18 year-old girl in the world who wasn't enamored with Alfred Jones. He was known to dabble in various genres, mostly pop with occasional hints of country, etc. His voice wasn't bad, nor his face, but his attitude made Arthur want to kick him where it counted. He was most ridiculous, cocky, immature singer in the entire music industry. He was big headed, and in Arthur's opinion, could not seem able to put his one brain cell to work and manage to put a shirt on. Washboard abs or not, it was indecent to always be shirtless.

All right, perhaps it wasn't so much the indecency, but more the fact that he sold music with looks and a rather appealing midsection. Arthur disagreed vehemently with such shallow tactics.

Unfortunately, whether Arthur agreed or not, he was still taking Alison and company to the concert. He checked his watch.

Lovely. Two hours until he was off to suffer.

* * *

Twenty minutes before Alison's estimated arrival time, Arthur realized that he had no idea what to wear to a Jones concert. He flipped open his phone and began to text Ali.

_Arthur: Hey Alison_

_Ali: hey :) excited?_

_Arthur: no. what the hell do I wear to this thing_

_Ali: good, im glad im not the only one who's nervous_

_Arthur: what?! im not nervous. i was just wondering what to wear. that's it._

_Ali: awwwe! come on Arthur, just look good_

_Ali: BECAUSE WE'RE MEETING ALFRED JONES OHMYGOD AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHASDFGHJKLASDFGJKL_

_Ali: sorry im just a bit excited to breath the SAME AIR as ALFRED JONES_

_Arthur: just a bit you say_

_Ali: wear something with swag. you'll be fab_

Arthur rolled his eyes. Ever since Ali had figured out Arthur was openly gay (he still didn't see how anyone could have missed it, but he supposed she _had_ grown up with him around), she referred to his style of dress as 'swag'. Perhaps she thought that being gay made him more fashionable? Arthur merely devoted more time in making sure he looked presentable, and he prided himself on doing so. Wearing skinny jeans wasn't a goddamn crime. Straight men would too, if they had the balls. He happened to be great at dressing, and for that matter, undressing too...

Arthur shuddered. He had been a bit…rambunctious in his teenage years, acting like he owned the world. Though he'd since settled down, he was still working on repressing his rather sizable ego.

After pulling on his favorite black skinnies and a white tee shirt, Arthur picked out the emerald green studs Alison had given him for his twenty-first birthday. They made his eyes look, as Ali put it, 'magical green.' He ran his fingers through his tousled white-blonde hair and sighed. Maybe he could fit in a mug of tea before Alison and her friends arrived.

His flat's buzzer began to whirr, announcing his visitors.

Never mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur was thankful that he'd decided to take the tube to the concert. Traffic, consisting of both people and cars, was highly concentrated around Wembley Arena. Alison and her friends spent the entirety of the trip chattering animatedly among themselves. When they resurfaced, they made their way over to the entrance of the concert arena. Arthur had to admit he'd felt a flicker of regality as Alison flashed their VIP tickets.

Once they finally managed to make their way trough the throngs of people and down to their seats, Arthur paused to look around appreciatively. He may not enjoy the actual concert, but the seats were fucking fantastic. A row away from the stage, and raised enough so one didn't have to awkwardly look up at the singer. He marveled at Alison's ability to win such a spot. She was really quite an extraordinary young lady when she put her mind to it.

Speaking of Alison, she had brought along three of her friends, all enormous fans of Alfred Jones. At the moment, they were talking animatedly about The Femmes, a group who was opening the show in… Arthur checked his watch - two minutes. Apparently the three-woman band was quite talented. Perhaps, to disguise Alfred's lack of talent.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and high pitched screaming erupted throughout the center. Arthur couldn't help but feel a pulse of anticipation as the charge in the atmosphere buzzed through him. After a few moments of utter blackness, coloured lights began to flicker, and suddenly three female figures were standing on stage. The one in the middle had long hair, with a flower tied to strand of her hair. She grabbed the mic silently and the two women behind her both took a step forward. They all jumped once, the lights flared, screams erupted throughout the venue, and the show began.

* * *

"I'm Eliza, and these wonderful ladies are Katya and Georgine. Thank you all so much!" The girls took little bows, then all sauntered off stage together. Arthur smiled. He was enjoying himself, and _really_ enjoying watching the girls fangirl over The Femmes.

"Did you see Georgine's heels?!"

"What about their new song 'Brother'?!"

"I heard Katya wrote it for her sister!"

"Eliza's hair is real!"

The stage was now being set for Alfred. The girls had continued to squeal occasionally, Arthur finding it amazing how high their voices could go to accommodate such enthusiasm for the concert. However, now it seemed the girls had quieted. Arthur decided to ask about Alfred.

"Are you ladies excited for Alfred Jones?"

"Yes ohmigodwecan'teventhisisamazing"

Arthur chuckled. "Is he actually talented?"

One of the girls rolled her eyes. "How could you even ask that? He can like, play everything and he's an amazing singer."

Alison suddenly screamed. "I THINK IT'S STARTING! AAAAHHH!"

As she had predicted, the lights dimmed and faint music began to play. The screams got louder, if that was possible. Arthur tapped his foot against the floor, waiting. One of Alison's friends had tears streaming down her cheeks, and the last was silently jumping up and down. Alison stared at the stage as though it held the secret to life's mysteries, screaming with anticipation. Slowly, a figure rose up on a platform, head bent, hands in pockets. Arthur couldn't hear himself think; yet he could feel the bass beginning to thump. Suddenly, the spotlights flared and Jones lifted his head to stare at the crowd. He wore aviators and a hoodie with the American flag, which Arthur could see clearly from his close proximity to the stage. Sparks began to fly and blue laser lights zigzagged through the air. Alfred Jones held a microphone to his lips,

"Hello citizens."

Screams ripped through the air with new fervor. Briefly, Arthur wondered why the fans called themselves citizens. One of Jones's first hits had been called 'American Monarch', so he supposed 'citizen' would sort of make sense. It still seemed rather ridiculous.

Alfred was singing now, occasionally breaking out dance moves with his backup dancers behind him.

The girls shouted along as Alfred broke into the chorus:

_American monarch_

_Pledge your allegiance to me_

_'Cause I'll play the leader_

_but I want you as queen_

The concert wore on, and surprisingly enough, Arthur didn't hate it. In the past hour, Jones had not only sung, but also played the drums with impressive skill. He now held an acoustic guitar, and was strumming it, with no other sound than the dull roar of female fans. He began to sing a slow love song, and Arthur's head snapped up of its own accord. Alfred Jones' voice was… incredible. Slow and rich, he turned the song into a story, and his much-doubted talent filled the arena with quiet passion. He ended the song to screams of adoration.

_'till you appear I'll keep searching…_

Arthur smiled softly. He experienced the feeling of 'searching' when he figured out he was gay in high school. All he had wanted was to know that at least there was someone out there would love him as himself. A man who could love another man openly, who could listen and be there and- Arthur sighed. He'd thought all of that before he'd gone punk. Granted, punk had helped him with finding himself, but he never did have stable relationships during that time.

Following Alfred's love song, the entire stage erupted with the closing number. Mini-fireworks burst and paper rained down on the audience. Finally, Alfred struck a pose, winked, and the panel he was standing on opened and he dropped out of sight.

* * *

When the girls had dusted the confetti off themselves, their little group was escorted to a small waiting room behind the stage. After several minutes, a rather flustered assistant approached them. Arthur almost missed the man; he blended in with his surroundings so completely.

"Here to see Alfred, eh?"

Alison spoke first. "YES!" She paused and took several deep breaths. "I, um, yes. We, I, er…"

The man smiled. "You're Alison, winner of the Allegiance contest, correct?" Her eyes widened and she nodded.

The man extended his hand. "I'm Mathew, production designer-"

"and Alfred's cousin!" One of Ali's friends squeaked.

Mathew looked vaguely proud to be known-about. He held out a hand. "Great to meet you."

Alison and her friends looked as though they were about to melt into a puddle of nervous excitement.

Arthur stepped forward.

"Hello Mathew, I'm Arthur, Alison's…" He hesitated. He hated saying uncle.

Alison jumped in. "He's my awesome cousin."

Arthur winked at Mathew. "That's me."

Mathew grinned. "Dragged to the show, eh? Well, nice meeting you Arthur. You'll meet Alfred in our press room, so if you all would just follow me…"

Alison exchanged wild-eyed looks with her friends, and they set out to meet Alfred Jones.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey everyone! Thank you so, so much for all your support! Please continue reviewing, they really make my day. To RedWhale6 ~ I will disclose Alfred and Arthur's ages soon, don't worry!

I'm looking to update this about once a week. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Mathew led the group to a comfortably furnished little room off a back-stage corridor. He had a small headset with an attached microphone, which occasionally crackled with static. Mathew offered them drinks, and briefed them on meeting Alfred. 'Please do not attempt to French-kiss Mr. Jones. Please do not give any underwear to Mr. Jones…' Mathew then left to fetch Alfred, who was "probably off eating something somewhere".

The girls sat in silence, looking as though they were about to burst with anticipation. Arthur was almost positive their brains weren't functioning normally, as they were practically shaking in their seats and panting slightly. Though he wasn't trembling, or, god be merciful, _panting_, he did feel a spark of…something. He was about to meet Alison's idol, who, just minutes ago, he watched put on an impressive performance. Mildly impressive performance, that is.

Arthur still wasn't a fan of Jones.

Suddenly, the door opened, and all eyes snapped to the doorway.

In walked the smiling Alfred Jones.

His eyes went immediately to Alison, and he waved. Screams ensued.

.

"Hey! You're the girl who won the contest right? I loved your entry."

Alison's friends squealed. Alison, rendered speechless by the very presence of Alfred, wiped away the tears on her face and waved a hello. She and her posse then scurried to Alfred and began to talk ecstatically, pausing only to take pictures.

"Your accent is so beautiful!"

"You're amazing!"

"I can't believe it, ohmygod I can't-will you sign this?"

"I love you!"

"eeeeahhhhhh!"

After about five minutes of freaking out on the girls part, Alfred looked up from his adoring fans, gaze sweeping the room. His eyes widened, and he seemed to notice Arthur in the corner for the first time.

Arthur looked up, catching the singer's eyes. Oh, bloody hell. Alfred Jones really _was_ as beautiful as the girls said. Blue eyes, messy blonde hair, perfect skin. _Damn._

"Hey, who are you?"

"That's…" One of Alison's comrades paused to sniff and give Arthur a watery smile. "Arthur. He took us to the concert."

"_He~llo _Arthur."

The playful, perhaps flirty edge to Alfred's words was rather enticing, and Arthur almost blushed, quickly covering his chagrin with a look of polite disinterest. "Nice to meet you Mr. Jones."

Jones laughed, undeterred by Arthur's cool reception.

"Please, Alfred is fine. Didja like the concert?"

No, no, no.

Alfred would not succeed in using his charismatic-singer-charm to get Arthur to reveal that the concert had been semi-enjoyable.

Arthur opened his mouth, but Alison interrupted. "Oh! Hah-I'm sure he did, but he isn't a huge fan if you know what I mean, and no offence intended, he just likes other music types and honestly I'm sure he loved it, butthankyouforasking,really."

Alfred raised his eyebrows at Arthur, but before he could say anything the door reopened, and The Femmes filed in, extracting another round of excited yelps from the young women.

* * *

The Femmes proved to be a very nice, slightly eclectic group of women. Their apparent leader, Elizabeta, seemed to be fun loving free spirit, and she immediately got on with Alison. Katya and Alfred chatted happily with the other girls, and Arthur began to talk with Georgine, his interest grabbed by tattoo on her wrist.

"Is that an infinity sign?"

Georgine laughed. "No, no, it's actually a fish."

Arthur tilted his head slightly.

"Not for religion or anything, I just really like fish. They're so cute and awesome and-"

Elizabeta leaned over, "She just REALLY likes fish."

Arthur chuckled and nodded in understanding.

"Do you have any tattoos?" Georgine smiled.

The room went quiet.

Alison began to laugh quietly to herself.

She knew about Arthur's tattoo. Arthur bit his lip.

Alfred was a dog given a bone.

"What? Tattoo? Where? What is it?"

Arthur glared at him. "It's none of your business."

Alfred made a puppy-like face, and the brit rolled his eyes.

"I guess I'm never going to see you again, it can't hurt…"

Something that could have been disappointment flickered across Alfred's face.

Arthur continued,

"When I was an idiot-"

Alison coughed, "Still are."

Arthur took a deep breath.

"I got-well…have wings tattooed on my back."

Alfred's jaw dropped open.

"No. Way."

Before Arthur could say anything, Alfred had somehow flipped him around and pulled up the back of his shirt, revealing the large, feathery wings etched on Arthur's back.

"WOAH dude, you were NOT kidding. That is some _sweet_ shit bro."

Arthur pulled his shirt down and looked at Alfred in shock. "What the bloody hell?! You don't just touch someone and inspect their backs and oh my god…"

Arthur went silent and shifted uncomfortably, trying to repress how flattered he was that Alfred Jones like his wings. And had flipped him around like he was-NO. For the love of the queen, get a grip.

To distract himself, Arthur glared at Alfred once more, and then at Ali. It was she who was the root of all this trouble. Alison looked as though she had died and gone to heaven, and her and her friends suppressed giggles. Arthur groaned. He was unable to remain mad at his crazy niece.

"I was a kid okay? My boyfriend knew a guy who had a sister who worked at a tattoo place, we got drunk, and…"

With horror, Arthur's voice faded off as he realized what he had said.

His boyfriend.

His BOYfriend.

HIS BOYFRIEND.

He had just informed Alfred Jones and the Femmes that he was gay. What if Jones was homophobic? What if Alison's favorite singer forever detested her meeting with him because she was related to a gay man? Shit, shit, shit.

Alfred's eyes slowly widened as he processed what Arthur said, but before anything could be said, the door opened and Mathew stuck his head in.

"Sorry to interrupt, but your time's up I'm afraid."

He ushered the girls and Arthur out into the hall.

"Thanks for entering, eh?"

With that and several goodbyes (with one especially tearful one from Katya), Arthur, and four devastated-to-be-leaving girls were escorted back to the main entrance, with only one stop so the girls could scream a number of "I love you's" to Alfred.

* * *

Arthur blushed and did not join in.

* * *

TBC…

Thank you all for faving and following and reviewing and ahh! Happy Monday~ (ages coming I promise...)


	4. Chapter 4

Just realized I've forgotten to say this: I don't own Hetalia, and I will most probably not ever. Please keep this in mind as this applies to the entirety of this story. :)

* * *

Arthur frowned at his home phone. Some obnoxious un-identified number had continuously pestered it over the course of the day. Well, to be fair, the caller had only rung three times, but that was enough to faintly bother Arthur. He had resumes to submit and interviews to prepare for, as he was looking for jobs after graduating. Being a double English-Journalism major was mildly helpful to his creative writing endeavors, but he was now searching for reporting opportunities; Luckily, he'd been proactive enough to secure several high-up intern positions at press companies around Britain, so unlike most at the ripe age of twenty three, he had high hopes for a full-time job to appear soon. Most unfortunately, his phone was still bothering him, so he decided to get work done elsewhere.

Arthur shuffled his papers into a neat stack and put them in his leather briefcase. He slipped his laptop in as well. He was excited to have some time off to catch up on job hunting and have fun with Alison. After the concert, he had brought Alison and her friends to his house and let them watch movies until they all passed out on his couch. When Melanie retrieved the girls, she had thanked Arthur and though he had protested, handed him fifty pounds. He'd use a little bit of it to buy tea at the local bookstore. Conveniently, this would get him out of the house, and away from his phone.

Slinging his briefcase over his shoulder, Arthur locked the door to his flat and headed towards the store. It wasn't a terribly lengthy walk, so he slowed down and enjoyed the air. It wasn't raining, happily enough. Arthur allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.

Suddenly, someone slammed into Arthur as he rounded a corner.

"Sh-, bro, I'm so sorry!"

Arthur's jaw dropped.

Surely, of all the people he could have _literally_ walked into, this was not the one. Perhaps he had a twin, or a foreign relative, or a look-alike.

Sadly, this was not the case. It was indeed him.

Arthur had managed to find himself face to face with Alfred Jones. Again.

Alfred's facial expression went from surprised to thoughtful.

"Hey, wait, don't I know you?"

A grin spread across his features.

"Yeah! It's you! You, I met you-last night-that contest-with Alison, I'm Alfred! Remember?"

Arthur glanced up at Alfred's excited eyes, trying to ignore the jumble of words tumbling from the Americans mouth. "If you are Alfred Jones, we did indeed meet last night."

Alfred's smile widened.

"Hah! That's what she sai- sorry. Uh, hello again…Arthur?" Alfred gave Arthur a slightly crooked smiled.

Arthur drew in a breath. Alfred had such perfect and white American teeth…

"It is Arthur, right?"

"Yes." He breathed.

"Did you lose your voice? Is that why you're whispering?"

Arthur continued to stare.

"Too much screaming my name?" Alfred wiggled his eyebrows.

Arthur recoiled, jolted back into reality by Alfred's crass comment. "I'm not even a fan, you dolt."

"Says the guy with an ex-_boy_friend, who happens to be kind enough to take his little girl cousin to my concert, and go backstage with her and her friends?"

Arthur didn't know how to respond to that comment, so he settled with snorting, raising his middle finger in salute, and then walking away.

The American stood in silence for a moment, then ran up behind him.

"Hey! Dude, sorry, didn't mean to offend."

Arthur stopped walking and rolled his eyes.

"You are an idiot. I don't care if your famous, I have things to do today other than talk to you."

"What about tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow. Do you have stuff to do tomorrow?"

Arthur shook his head.

Americans and their weird questions. "It's Sunday." He said, as though this explained everything.

"So no? Nothing?"

"No. Why do you even wa- "

"Great, so you can show me around London then!"

Arthur looked at Alfred incredulously.

"Do you _honestly _think, just because you're _famous _or some shit of the like, that anyone you meet on the street is just going to up and consent to guide you around London? Are you delirious?"

Alfred stared at Arthur, his lips turning up ever so slightly as his eyes widened. It was as though he was seeing a whole new person in Arthur's place.

"Anyone else would have agreed immediately. You're something..."

Arthur did a double-take. He wasn't sure he had heard properly.

"I'm what?!"

Alfred grinned again. "Nothing. I can throw in a personal message to Alison if you give me a tour. Does that sweeten the pot for ya?"

Arthur bit his lip.

Shit, this man was good.

Alison would never let him live in peace if she found out an opportunity like this was wasted. Arthur sighed. He was cornered.

"Fine."

Alfred whooped.

"What time? Where do I find you?"

Arthur raised his hands. "Stop being so loud! People are staring!"

Alfred laughed. "People always stare. It's a miracle paparazzi haven't found me."

Arthur rolled his eyes and considered how early American's were said to wake up. Better to assume later in the day.

"I'll meet you here at eleven sharp tomorrow. Don't be late."

Alfred flashed his perfect smile and clapped Arthur on the back.

"See ya then! Don't forget!"

Arthur had to take a few minutes to process the day's events before he whipped out his phone and texted Alison.

* * *

Arthur: Hey Ali?

Ali: HEEYYYYYY

Arthur: you know Alfred Jones?

Ali: yep. BECAUSE I MET HIM AND I'M STILL IN DENIAL GOD OH GOD

Arthur: I just bumped into him

Ali: …

Ali: r u serious

Ali: no you have to be kidding

Ali: no way

Ali: nuh-uh

Ali: noooooooooooo

Ali: u didn't

Arthur: yes

Ali: NONONOOMGOMGWHATWHEREHOW

Arthur: dunno I was walking to get tea and

Ali: you crashed into him didn't you

Ali: you forgot to be aware of real life and walked into him

Arthur: no

Arthur: why would you think that

Ali: you did. This means….

Ali: you've felt the impact of Alfred Jones's chest

Ali: Arthur youre the luckiest human being alive

Arthur: Ali focus!

Ali: HOW ARTHUR YOU CAN'T JUST DROP SOMETHING LIKE THIS

Arthur: Ali, I'm going to tell you this in one message and then turn off my phone. Don't try to call me and scream a lot. Okay, Alfred fucking mr. fantastic jones coaxed me into giving him a tour of London and he promised to write you something so I would say yes. You're very welcome. I did this for you.

Arthur pressed send then hurriedly shut down his cell. He didn't want to listen to Ali freak out. He just wanted some tea and time to write. He wasn't about to let some American git fuck with his schedule.

* * *

When he got home, Arthur opened a book and began to read. After about ten minutes, his home phone started ringing. Caller I.D. proudly announced that Melanie Kirkland was calling his humble residence, and Arthur cautiously picked up the telly.

"Hullo?"

Melanie sounded slightly concerned.

"Arthur, Alison has been cradling her Alfred Jones tee shirt and crying for half an hour."

"Oh?"

"Should I be worried?"

"Not particularly. Just make sure she shifts positions every half hour."

Arthur could almost hear Melanie smile.

"Of course. Goodbye dear."

* * *

NOTE: for those of you that find it a tad unrealistic that Arthur happens to bump into Alfred (or vise versa), do not worry, it would be, but it isn't (you'll have to wait and see why~) Also, Happy Hanukkah to all those who celebrate it! Consider this a gift~

Follows, favs, and reviews are always loved!


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur found himself standing rather conspicuously on the street corner, waiting. The American idiot was late. Honestly, Arthur had assumed Jones would be decent enough to show up on time. Apparently he was wrong. After debating for several minutes whether or not to leave, Arthur decided to wait a tad longer. He didn't want to let Alison down. He sighed and fiddled with the sleeves on his button-down.

"Hey!"

Arthur turned to face the very man he had been waiting for. Jones was wearing Nikes, looser jeans, and was that…a leather jacket? How _American_.

"Sorry I'm late-had to sneak away from Mathew and wow I can't believe you actually showed up! You really love that cousin of yours."

Arthur was startled. Alfred had remembered his promise about Alison.

"I, er, yes. I-"

Arthur had suddenly noticed the strange, burly man standing roughly three meters behind Alfred, staring intently at him.

"Who's that? Do you know him?"

Alfred turned around to see whom Arthur was staring accusingly at.

"Oh-hah, that's Joe, one of my body guards. He's chill; he helped me get here. I'm not really supposed to leave without my manager's consent and stuff, soooo…."

Arthur shook his head.

"Your life is quiet complicated."

Alfred looked thoughtful. "Yeah… it's busy. Howabout that tour?"

Arthur squared his shoulders and let out a puff of air. "Right. I thought we'd start with Westminster."

Alfred looked excited. "Awesome!"

Arthur sighed. Alfred Jones might be famous, but he was still a tourist. Tourists liked landmarks.

"Well then, let's head to the tube, we can take that to get there faster." Arthur began to walk in the direction of the nearest station.

"Oh, and you're buying your own oyster Jones. I'm certain you have the money."

Alfred grinned. "That's cool."

He jogged to catch up to Arthur.

"Hey Arthur?"

"What."

"Uhm, is Westminster a place? And uh…what's 'the tube'? And why do we need oysters?"

Arthur snorted.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Arthur spent the train ride explaining 'English-y things' to Alfred. The tube was very like the American subway. Oysters, also known as Oyster Cards, were the way to pay for each trip on a train, thus were the UK equivalent to metro cards. Westminster was where Big Ben was. Yes, there was a London Bridge. Yes, they could visit the London Bridge. No, it did not fall down frequently. Arthur knew that the first London Bridge had actually been moved to Arizona, but he saw no reason to mention the fact.

They stepped off the train and re-emerged into London, the Thames almost visible as they walked up towards the surface of the city. They turned right, and Alfred stopped in his tracks, eyes growing large.

"Woah, dude. Is that Big Ben?"

"It's actually called Elizabeth Tower. The bell inside is 'big ben'." Alfred smiled, in awe of the monumental tower in front of him.

"Well you're the expert. Elizabeth Tower it is."

"It's, I-call it whatever you like. Big Ben is the common name, you're right." Arthur stammered. It was strange when Jones listened so intently.

Alfred spun around to take in the veiw, disregarding the crowd bustling around him. "What's that?! A Ferris wheel?!"

Arthur was amused by Jones's child-like shock.

"The London Eye. Very touristy."

"I'm a tourist! Lets go!"

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Pleeease?"

"Ehugh, fine. Come along."

Arthur set out towards the towering structure, Alfred chattering animatedly beside him.

* * *

"The line was not as bad as you said it would be."

"Sorry I don't have the ability to predict the future and disregard previous experience."

Arthur stood next to Alfred as their little pod ascended into the sky. They had a compartment to themselves, as one look at Alfred and the clerk had arranged for them to skip the line and had given them an empty capsule. Joe had since dissolved into the background; Arthur assumed he was waiting at the bottom, trusting Arthur enough to be alone with Jones. Alfred snapped pictures happily, and Arthur enjoyed the view. London spread out beneath them, the Thames a flowing border between two city halves.

Alfred pressed his phone to the glass.

"My mom is going to love this."

Arthur let a grudging smile spread across his face. A mama's boy. Naturally.

"What about your father?"

Alfred became still, and Arthur mentally slapped himself.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to pry."

Alfred shook his head. "Nah, it's all good. Dad died when I was thirteen."

Arthur's mouth fell open in shock.

"I'm…I, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's okay now. Him dying led to good things in the long run, actually."

Arthur's brow creased in confusion.

Alfred continued, "After he died, I started singing. As much as I love him, he didn't like that I sang. Thought it was sissy of me. Afterwards, I sang more and more, then I won this little contest thing and got noticed by my agent, and it all went uphill from there. I guess I could get any girl I want now, so he's probably proud…somewhere up there."

Arthur gave Alfred a tiny smile of encouragement.

"I bet he's very proud of you."

Alfred laughed. "Thanks. I still don't want girls though."

Arthur looked up quickly. What did Jones just say? No, not possible. He must have meant that he wanted a woman, not a girl. Big words for a- Arthur realized he had no idea how old Alfred Jones actually was. He asked.

"How old are you?"

"That's kind of a non-sequitur, but I'm nineteen."

Nineteen. One of the biggest singers in the world at _nineteen_. He had also used Latin. Perhaps Alfred was the slightest bit intelligent.

"How about you?"

"I'm twenty three."

Arthur suddenly felt old with that response.

"So you can drink. Cool."

"What do you mean by 'I can drink'. Everyone can drink, idiot."

Alfred laughed. "I mean you can drink alcohol legally."

Arthur felt as though he was moving slowly through water, trying to process what Alfred meant.

Then suddenly, it clicked. Everything Alfred Jones was talking about made sense, and it was _hilarious_.

Jones had no idea that the drinking age was different.

Arthur dissolved into laughter. While choking on guffaws, Arthur managed to wheeze,

"Oh..you poor bastard! Your country-ahaha, you can't, hahaha-you mean, heeeeee heh, oh lord this is too good."

Soon Alfred started laughing, purely because the sight of Arthur overwhelmed with sidesplitting giggles was amusing enough to make anyone crack up.

After a long two minutes of laughing uproariously, Alfred glanced down towards the ground now nearing them. The pod was close to the bottom of the wheel, and Alfred suddenly grimaced.

"Shit."

Arthur glanced up and wiped tears off his cheeks.

"Eheh-what?"

"They found me. Fucking hell."

Arthur looked down in confusion, about to open his mouth for an explanation, then he closed it. He could see the problem. Reporters and the general populous had gathered in a mass at the entrance of the wheel. Alfred's phone began to ring, and he picked up stiffly. His voice was clipped and quiet.

"Hey. Yeah, I see them. Where? Down the first street, to the right, straight to the studio. Got it, yeah. Come on! Please? It's been like, a fourth of a day! Can't he come? I-fine, whatever. No, I get it, sorry. Bye, see you then."

Alfred hung up and looked sadly at Arthur.

"That was Joe. There's a car waiting to take me back to where I'm staying. When this pod-thing lands and I get out, you have to sprint in the other direction, away from me. Paparazzi do not give up easily, and they will follow you. Go until you are sure they aren't behind you. I'll run the other way, to get in the car waiting for me. Got it?"

Arthur felt a small lance of disappointment pierce his stomach.

"Yes. I understand."

Alfred stared at Arthur unhappily. "I really appreciate you showing me around. Thanks. I've had a lot of fun. I'm sorry the tour has to end so soon."

Arthur looked down. "Yeah, no probl-"

His voice broke off as he found himself encased in the arms of Alfred Jones.

"Thanks bro. I mean it. Goodbye."

The pod hissed open, and Arthur found himself running as fast as he could away from Alfred Jones.

* * *

Happy Monday!

I can't believe I'm updating so much, I feel so productive! As midterms are coming up, my update pace may slow down, but as I write in relatively short segments, this fic should (at a minimum) keep being updated on Mondays.

To Teenage Mouse – I am incredibly embarrassed to have called the venue Madison Square Garden. I lived outside of New York City for a while and I must have just been in a 'New York City' mode. Thank you times a hundred for educating me, and I fixed the mistake! (I feel like a dumb American and I'm laughing about it)

Thank you so much to all who review, fav, and follow. You are marvelous indeed~


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur sat in his little apartment, feeling a confusing jumble of emotions. He had just had one interesting day. Well, _interesting_ was one word for it…

Though his run from the photographers had been exhilarating, he wondered if Alfred had gotten away. Was he used to such a life? A life of running away from intrusive press? He traveled all the time; he didn't see what was left of his family a lot. Though he was a star…it all sounded rather lonely to Arthur.

Arthur was content with his little flat, and his comfortable little life. He had Alison, one of the positive sides to his dysfunctional family. He had friends and hopefully a full-time job coming soon. He was fine.

Yet, with all the fine-ness of his life, something still nagged at the back of him mind. Deciding that it must be sleep deprivation, as he really had stayed up late writing the night before, Arthur fixed himself a mug of tea and decided to retire to bed. A small yowl interrupted his progress.

Arthur brought a hand to his forehead. He knew what was bugging him. He'd completely forgotten to feed Crumpet! Sometimes it was difficult to remember he even owned a cat, what with the Scottish Fold's tranquil temperament.

"Sorry little chap. Won't happen again." Crumpet gave Arthur a pointed look as he fetched the food, and Arthur laughed.

"Here you are. Goodnight, lovely."

* * *

Arthur arched his back and felt several satisfying pops. He was finally finished with work.

Monday felt like it had stretched to fill the space of several days, and though he was excited for the minimally busy day he had tomorrow, he'd been at his part-time all day. Taking off his apron, Arthur picked up his bag and coat, and realized his phone was buzzing. An unidentified number again, but it looked different. He shrugged and figured he'd pick up.

"Hello?"

A feminine voice sounded over the receiver. "Hello. Is this Mr. Arthur Kirkland? I'm with Williams Dunne."

Arthur felt as though he couldn't speak. Williams Dunne was a small yet wildly successful business report read by many company CEOS and business revolutionaries. They had a section for up and coming company developers and how to support them, and to be featured in it as an entrepreneur could make one's career. To put it lightly, Williams Dunne was a very prestigious place to work. Arthur breathed deeply, trying to suppress the wild hope bubbling in his stomach. "Yes, this is he."

"Oh excellent. We really liked your resume, and I'd love to talk to you further. What with your interest in international affairs, internship experience, and your surprisingly engaging writing ability, you might just make a positive contribution to our establishment's goal. I'd like to meet with you tomorrow, at 12:00. Will you be available?"

Arthur sucked in a breath, trying to maintain his calm front. "Yes, that sounds excellent. Thank you."

"Good. See you then."

With a click, the woman disconnected. Arthur started to laugh with joy, and found he couldn't stop. He was so thrilled he didn't even acknowledge the strange looks he got on the way home. People could bugger off for all _he_ cared, because he had quite possibly found himself an awesome job. As he was unlocking his apartment door, his phone began to chime once more.

Alison was calling him.

Arthur raised the device to his ear.

"Alison?"

A very high-pitched Alison replied, "HI ARTHUR. I LOVE YOU."

Arthur chuckled. "and why is that?"

"I just got a free Alfred Jones tee shirt, bracelet, and _signed_ Allegiance album! And he wrote me a letter! ALFRED JONES USED HIS HAND TO WRITE ME A LETTER ABOUT MEETING ME AND YOUARETHEREASONBECAUSEYOUMETHIM."

There was a long pause where he could hear Alison taking deep breaths. "I'm so grateful thank you this is so unbelievable oh my fucking god I can't even."

"You're welcome Ali, it wasn't an-"

"ARTHUR I FORGOT."

"What?"

"THERES A LETTER FOR YOU HERE SOMEWHERE. ALFRED WROTE THAT YOU SHOULD OPEN IT."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Ali, I'm sorry but I'm unable to come fetch it, I just got off work and I have-"

"I knew you'd be busy, so I'm bringing it."

"You're bringing it. What?! You're taking the train?! Are you by yourself?!"

"Yes I'm bringing it, it's important if it's from Alfred Jones. No, I'm not taking the train, and of course I'm alone. You think Mum would just _let _me go?"

"How in the hell are you getting to London, you can't drive."

"I called a cab."

"You…oh Alison your mother, no, _your_ _father_ is going to kill me."

"My mother and father aren't going to know, silly. According to them, I'm out shopping. See you in like ten minutes."

"Ten minutes? The drive's way longer than that."

"Yeah well we've been driving for about forty five. Bye!"

* * *

Arthur opened his door to a happy looking Alison. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she started talking in a airy tone.

"May I remind you that at thirteen you were beginning to go to parties and get smashed for fun? I merely took a cab somewhere."

"I wasn't going to say anything about you coming here, I was just going to offer you a drink." He paused, then added hurriedly, "Of water-or the like."

Alison ignored him, set down a rather large purse on the floor, unfastened it, pulled out a white envelope, and marched to Arthur. She pressed it against his chest.

"You are going to read this. Then you are going to tell me EXACTLY what it says."

Arthur let out a small chuckle, ripped open the envelope, and began to read.

_Hey Arthur,_

_Just wanted to say thanks for the tour, and that I'm so sorry about cutting the whole thing short when the stupid paparazzi showed. I should have been more careful, sorry. I looked up the drinking age and I think it's eighteen-ish. That is actually hilarious, and you are __so funny__ when you laugh. :) _

_Will you meet me at the corner where we met before the tour at like eleven a.m.? I'm leaving for Amsterdam after that._

_I get it if you can't come though!_

_I'd give you my phone number but security says I can't._

_-Alfred _

Arthur frowned and reread the letter. He didn't know if he could make it in time to meet Alfred tomorrow, or if he even wanted to.

He had barley lowered the letter away from his face before Alison swooped past him and snatched the letter away.

"I came all this way and I'm going to read it!"

Her eyes flicked across the page and then she looked up at Arthur.

"You are going. You are meeting him. He probably never gets to hang out with people his age who are guys so just go Arthur. You don't want to hurt his feelings. GO MEET ALFRED JONES YOU LUCKY MAN."

Arthur sighed, and Alison threw him the widest of puppy-eyes.

Arthur snorted.

"Fine I'll go. But I have an interview an hour after eleven, so I'm not waiting around for long."

* * *

Happy Monday!

Happy Tuesday?

I am so terribly sorry for this late update. I was sick, finals are coming, I'm applying to this International school program thing, and pleasedon'thateme.

Anyway~

In case you were wondering about Scottish Folds (the cat breed) they are actually a blend of British and American shorthair cats. Therefore, the embody USUK to the fullest. Just in case you cared :)

About Arthur's job(s): As to what his part time one is, it's up to your beautiful imagination, and Williams Dunne is of my own creation.

Thank you to all who fav, follow, and review!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter is super short (even shorter than usual). It's mostly just to fill in the story, and I promise the next chapter will be longer (and hopefully better written).

* * *

Arthur found himself waiting on the same corner as two days ago, dressed in a freshly pressed suit with his briefcase slung over his shoulder. Its leather strap pulled on his shoulder, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He set the bag on the ground. He looked around, tapped his foot, then checked his watch. It was eleven fifteen, and wanker Alfred was _still _nowhere in sight.

Arthur crossed his arms and scowled. He needed to be at least ten minutes early to his job interview, and it would take twenty minutes to get there, with a five-minute's walk to the tube from here… Arthur shook his head. Jones had five minutes to show up before Arthur was leaving.

After about seven minutes Arthur sighed angrily. He wasn't going to be late to a maybe-life-altering interview for someone he barley knew. Hefting his bag over his shoulder, he hurried toward the underground station.

"Arthur! Hey! Wait!"

Arthur paused and turned his head; he could have sworn he'd heard—no. He couldn't be late, his career was what mattered, he couldn't look for Jones anymore.

It was over.

He walked toward his train, disappearing into a crowd of people, completely unaware of the lost-looking American standing dejectedly at the doors of the station.

* * *

Arthur arrived at the quiet Williams Dunne building ten minutes early, and walked cautiously inside the clean, white lobby. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, and he was directed to an elevator. He pressed the eighth floor.

The woman interviewing him was younger and friendlier than he had expected. She said her name was Emma, and then began to ask him questions about his resume. She had bright green eyes, dark blonde hair that brushed her shoulders, and a slight accent from somewhere he couldn't put his finger on. She smiled, and Arthur felt some of his stress melt away, enabling his words to begin flowing smoothly and naturally. At the end of the interview, Emma stood up with him and winked, collecting her bag and several files.

"It's been a pleasure Mr. Kirkland. I think we'll be seeing you soon." Arthur grinned. "The pleasure is all mine, can I walk you out?"

Emma accepted graciously, stooping to retrieve something behind her desk. It appeared to be a compact suitcase.

"Are you going on a vacation?"

Emma nodded thoughtfully.

"I suppose I am. Normally no one ever takes days like Tuesday or Wednesday off, but I guess I'm unique! Actually now that I think about it… we don't usually _ever_ take days off, but I haven't seen my brother in a while and—" She paused abruptly. "and…I…miss Amsterdam?"

Arthur noted her hesitancy, and a small bell rung at the back of his mind. "Forgive me for intruding, but are you aren't going to a concert in Amsterdam are you?"

Emma laughed.

"No, I'm not, but I certainly wouldn't mind. Do you know of any good ones?"

Arthur shook his head and hoped he seemed convincing.

"The reason I paused is because I'm actually going to research a possible feature for one of our stories on successful business people, but I'm not supposed to do so without my boss's consent. He hasn't been around, so I figure I'll just do a little free-lance work and if he's okay with it later, I'll give him what I got."

Arthur nodded, and by now they had reached the sidewalk.

"Well, good bye Mr. Kirkland! Thanks for coming in on such short notice, I'll be getting back to you."

Arthur waved, and the young woman disappeared.

Arthur strolled along, going nowhere in particular, wondering whom Emma could have possibly been talking about. His mind drifted to Alfred's concert. That was going on in Amsterdam soon, if memory served him correctly. He wasn't sure when, and he didn't know why he suddenly felt so…sad? He imagined Alfred stuck in traffic, missing his alarm, _something_ to keep him from arriving on time. Then he pictured the American looking around hopefully for Arthur at the corner but never finding him. Slowly getting a more and more dejected look on his face before finally allowing Joe to usher him into a waiting car. He thought of Alfred rolling his eyes and forgetting about Arthur. Arthur frowned, and attempted to shove those thoughts out of his mind. The interview had been more important. He was going to have a good job, Alfred, or no Alfred.

* * *

_TBC several months later…_

* * *

Hello everyone! Happy Monday!

Yes, Emma is Belgium if you didn't catch the references.

The reviews, favs, and follows are lovely, thank you so very much! :D

Just a heads up: I'm working on a USUK Christmas oneshot, which I'll post sometime before/on Christmas. If you don't celebrate the holiday, please consider it a seasonal gift.

/Additional note: there is some confusion on the TBC several moths later thing. I mean time in the fic, I'll keep updating regularly!


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur sat in the Williams Dunne office, fingers clacking on his keyboard. He reached for his tea and shivered. Winter had most certainly arrived. He paused as he heard Emma's heels clicking toward his desk.

He looked up.

She was grinning ear to ear, positively emulating happiness. Arthur tilted his head with a cautious smile.

"What's going on?"

She smiled. "Good news! So much good news!"

"What is it?"

Emma looked as though she was about to burst. "I'd make you guess, but you're much too modest sometimes. Ready? Alright, your section's popularity has continued to climb, and I'd say the boss will give you a promotion soon!"

Arthur grinned, Emma's support baffling him in the best sort of way.

"Thank you for telling me, I'm very glad to hear I'm doing well in my first months."

Emma shook her head. "Doing well?! We hire you, what, three months ago, and you bring in this much more attention? Doing _well_ is an understatement!"

Arthur blushed and stared down at the section he was working on, willing the heat to dissipate. Emma laughed.

"Silly Arthur, that's not all the news I have. Remember that trip I went on? The one right after we first met, it was to Amsterdam?"

Arthur's brow creased, and he nodded.

"I've talked to the boss about the research I was doing there, and he agrees with my idea. The only thing is, we need someone to go talk with one of our main features. If someone can do it, everything is going to be amazing!"

Arthur smiled in congratulations. "That's wonderful! Who do you want to talk to?"

It seemed it was Emma's turn to blush.

"Alright, hear me out. I got this idea…that we could do a feature on lucrative business in the media-centric world. Then I thought of someone who would be a _perfect_ interview/feature. We simply require a motivated individual to interview him then write a piece. I would volunteer in a second, but I'm be working on some other people who made it with the help of the media and such. I thought you'd be perfect talking to him, so I came to ask to you."

Arthur frowned. Emma seemed to be avoiding his question.

"Emma? Who do you want me to interview?"

Emma bit her lip.

"I want you to interview Alfred Jones."

Arthur felt the blood rushing from his face.

"I know! It seems like he makes no sense, but he does! Please, don't judge me for thinking of him. I'm not a crazed fan or anything, I just really like— er, think we should feature someone who's done so well. He's an incredibly successful young artist! We even wrote something about him when he was just starting to make it, please just consider!"

Arthur sighed and stared at the floor. After several drawn out seconds he mumbled, "Of course I'll do it, Emma."

Emma sighed. "Oh thank god Arthur, I thought you'd be embarrassed or—"

Arthur cut her off. "When does he get to London?"

Emma grimaced. "Yeah, er, about that. You're now going to America. In two days. I'm glad you agreed!"

Then she ran away from his desk, Arthur chasing after her.

* * *

Arthur threw a shirt into his bag with vengeance.

He felt like and idiot.

He _was _an idiot.

After he had caught up with Emma, she had explained to him that they had already bought airfare, as the only time Jones was available for an interview was at his home, directly before the holidays. Emma had managed to get ahold of his mother—a difficult task apparently, and set up an interview. Mrs. Jones was a retired businesswoman herself, and to Emma's joy, read the Williams Dunne. Emma had patted him on the arm and explained that he was to meet Jones at his mother's home in Virginia.

Thanks to the kind Mrs. Jones, Arthur was being shipped off the America just before the holidays to interview someone he hadn't really wanted to see again. To be honest, Arthur was almost positive Jones wouldn't want to see him either. Everything was so bloody brilliant.

As final torture, Arthur had been handed a tin of one of his favorite teas and an embossed envelope to bring to America as a sort of hostess gift for Mrs. Jones. Arthur scowled, most Americans didn't even like tea.

He zipped up his bag, ensuring his boarding time. It seemed all was in order. Even his grumpy feline had been taken care of by a cheery Alison, who had collected Crumpet and then deposited an advent calendar and an Alfred Jones poster to 'brighten' Arthur's little flat. He smiled. Maybe Alison could garner some joy from his misfortunes.

Arthur straightened his jacket, collected his luggage, then stepped out of his flat, locking the door behind him.

* * *

After Arthur had arrived at the airport and gone through the necessary yet tedious business of security, he pulled out his cell and checked his email. Allowing himself to become briefly curious about the weather, he checked the forcast around Washington Dulles International airport. It seemed good enough, but there was a heavy snow warning later in the week. Arthur ignored it. How bad could snow get in Virginia?

A crackling speaker announced that it was time for Arthur's section to board, and he stood to face the inevitable.

* * *

Far away from London, a sleepy American's jet touched down in the quiet Winchester Regional Airport.

Alfred Jones was home.

* * *

A/N: Happy Monday! Hope the holidays are treating everyone kindly, and the USUK oneshot thing should be up tomorrow. (I apologize if it's terrible). Merry Christmas!


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur yawned and shifted under the over-starched sheets. It seemed he could not return to sleep, though the sun was barely breaking over the horizon. However, jet lag was just a part of the job. It had to be delt with.

His phone broke the sleepy silence, emitting pleasant classical, and he rolled over and frowned. He thought he hadn't set an alarm. He picked up the little device and realized someone was calling him.

"Hullo?"

Emma's gentle yet excited voice sounded over the receiver.

"Good morning Arthur!"

Arthur snorted.

"Good god do you know what time it is here?"

"It's noon here, and you're still on our time."

Arthur sighed. "No wonder I couldn't sleep."

Emma laughed. "Sorry about timezones."

Arthur chuckled. "You owe me lunch for this. Multiple lunches."

Emma giggled. "That I do. I'm thankful! Anyway, get dressed and check your email."

Arthur tilted his head. "Am I interviewing today?"

"Yep. Sorry, she—Mrs. Jones, wasn't sure when he'd get in or when he'd agree to talk with you, but apparently he has time today at nine. I emailed you directions to his place, it's not far at all as you're already in his hometown."

Arthur yawned. "Alright, I'll get ready, bye Emma."

"Have fun!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and was disconnected with a click.

He stood, grumbling incoherently and headed to the shower.

* * *

"Turn left and continue for 500 feet."

Arthur shook his head. American measurements were bizarre. Feet? What bastard thought of that insignificant increment, he didn't want to know.

"You have arrived at your destination."

Arthur stared at the driveway in front of him and checked that the GPS wasn't broken. He turned off his music and squinted at the screen. Everything seemed correct. Hoping his eyes weren't deceiving him, Arthur turned into the winding gravel drive, passing the small decaying gate posts. He easily could have missed it, and his brow wrinkled. It seemed strange that Alfred's mother would pick somewhere so secluded, but he suppose he understood. Privacy and fame didn't mix well.

Soon a house came into view and Arthur felt his jaw drop. He blinked forcefully several times then looked again at the structure before him.

Arthur realized he had arrived at what could be one of the most beautiful houses in America.

The house had to be at least three stories tall with a porthole window protruding from the slanted grey roof. The home's warm red brick contrasted with the sky's grey clouds. Ivory white windows were framed with olive green shutters that seemed to fade into the rich foliage provided by gnarled trees that looked decades old. A rectangular white porch led the way to a large door with glass panels scalloped into a crown-like window above it. Arthur let out a rush of breath. He didn't want to disturb this home. However, he didn't always do what he wanted.

Arthur barely trod across the frosty ground and lifted his hand to close around the eagle-shaped knocker before a small woman opened the door. He smiled and held out his hand as Mrs. Jones introduced herself. Arthur was surprised at the warmth and kindness Mrs. Jones radiated, but he supposed it should have been expected. Alfred had exuded some of the same content happiness when Arthur talked with him before.

Arthur offered the company gift of tea to Mrs. Jones, and she delighted him by offering to make a cup for him. She had smile lines in her face, and Arthur liked her.

"Now I know you're here to see Alfred, dear, but I'm afraid he's out."

Arthur turned confused from the window he had been looking out of.

"Pardon?"

"Sometimes he gets these little moods where he goes off on his own outside. He has such a busy life; he needs the time. His walks don't take long, but you may have to wait a few minutes. I told him you'd be here don't worry. None of this goes in your interview, by the way."

Arthur chuckled. "I would never, Mrs. Jones."

He heard the front door click and creak open and turned.

"Hey Mom? I'm back, is that interviewer here?"

Alfred froze at the entrance to the kitchen, staring at Arthur, lips parted.

"Hullo Alfred."

"I, how, what? You're interviewing me?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

Arthur had to focus very hard on Alfred's forehead to stop his eyes from sweeping downward to examine Alfred, and he cleared his throat.

"I'm with the Williams Dunne. Is there a place you'd rather I talk to you?"

Alfred's mother showed them to a quiet dining area with large windows to the quiet outdoors. Alfred offered Arthur a chair then sat himself.

Arthur pulled a voice recorder and notepad out of his bag and smiled half-heartedly. "Alright let's get started."

After about ten minutes Alfred paused and stared at Arthur.

"I missed you that last day."

Arthur almost dropped his pen, and quickly paused the recording.

"You never showed up, so I left. I had an appointment, an interview actually."

Alfred chuckled softly, in an almost sardonic manner. "Huh. We've come in a complete circle then. Now you're interviewing me."

Arthur sighed.

"I'm sorry about leaving. You must have been inconvenienced."

Alfred shook his head. "Nah, it was nothing, I was just worried that you were really mad or something. I saw you walk into the train station but I couldn't find you after that."

Arthur cringed. "I didn't see you. God, I'm really sorry about that."

Alfred laughed. "I didn't realize how worried I was about you being mad or something. Stupid right?"

Arthur smiled in return. "I understand. How was the rest of your tour? You went to Amsterdam right?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, and I met with this really nice family there."

Arthur's eyes widened. "You remember all the people you meet with?"

Alfred shrugged. "I try my best. I'm thankful they like me, it's kinda surreal."

Arthur spent the next hour continuing to half-interview, half-chat with Alfred. By the end, they were joking as though they'd know each other for years. Laughing at Alfred despite himself, he stood and collected his bag.

"Thank you Alfred, it was nice to see you again."

Alfred stood, a playful expression shaping his features. "Only nice? That's all?" He winked. "It was _nice _for me too."

Arthur joked back and bid Mrs. Jones goodbye, but he couldn't help wonder if Alfred had possibly been flirting with him on his way to the rental car.

As Arthur unlocked the doors, Alfred came running out. "Hey Arthur, see you tomorrow!"

Arthur turned. "What?"

"I will be giving you a tour of _my _little town now, and it's going to make up for London, yeah?"

Arthur scoffed. "You don't even know where I'm staying."

Alfred grinned.

"I'll find you."

Arthur sat on the wrong drivers side and smiled.

_I hope you do._

He shook his head. That was an idiotic and unnecessary thought. He put on some music and pulled away from the Jones residence.

* * *

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry for dropping off the map for two weeks, I had quite the crazy filled holiday season. I hope you're enjoying the new year!


End file.
